


Brighter Than Gold

by Tarlan



Category: Yellow Rock (2011)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fight at the gold mine, Tom and Broken Wing take Sarah back to the Blackpaw village in the hope they can save her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighter Than Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Michael Biehn Month February 2016

The beat of the drums seemed to match his own thumping heart as he watched the Blackpot Medicine Man call upon the Spirits to save Sarah. He left the tepee and slumped down close by, suddenly more aware of his own injuries from being dragged behind a horse through the unforgiving land with its spiny shrubs and coarse grass, and feeling infinitely weary. He knew he should be dead, and as he lay dying under the hot sun only a few days earlier he had welcomed oblivion. His wife was dead, taken by a fever three years ago leaving his boy motherless, and not even a year earlier he'd lost his boy too. This time he'd had no one to blame but himself for not watching over the boy near the river, realizing too late that Billy had just a family of opossum onto the treacherous bank. He still had nightmares of dragging his boy's lifeless body from the river.

William 'Billy' Hanner had been but eight years old.

Looks First sat down cross-legged beside him, looking back through the open entrance to the tepee to where the Medicine Man chanted entreaties to unknown deities.

"He asks the spirit of Angry Wolf to spare her."

From his trail talks with Sarah, Tom knew the Blackpaw revered the Wolf Spirit and he wondered if it was more than mere coincidence having the camp attacked by a pack of wolves after they defiled the Blackpaw sacred burial ground by riding through it. In hindsight desecrating the Blackpaw's sacred ground was an action he deeply regretted, knowing how he'd feel if a group of strangers rode through the cemetery where he buried his boy, disturbing the peace and sanctity of that place. Broken Wing must have said something to the Elders, believing the Wolf Spirit needed appeasement before he'd let go his hold on Sarah.

"When I was... close to death, one of your people came to me. He spoke in your people's tongue but I didn't need to understand the words. I felt them." He tapped his chest. "Here. He pulled me back from the brink of death."

"It was Broken Wing-."

"No. It was before Broken Wing found me. A different man... so alike they could have been brothers but I've not seen him here." Tom laughed softly, at the absurdity of the recent events but sobered. "This was my fault, not Sarah's. I trusted a man I hardly knew, and she put her trust in me. He played me though. Knew I was hurting from losing my boy, lost in a bottle of whiskey, and knew I'd get caught up in the idea of finding absolution by saving another boy. Took a while to see through the lies."

"Yellow rock fever twists a man's words and actions. Once the fever sets in there is no cure... but death."

They fell silent, listening to the drums and songs as the fire crackled, sending sparks into the night air in offering to the Wolf Spirit. Eventually he must have drifted off because when he next opened his eyes the fire had reduced to smoldering ashes and Looks First had gone. Instead of chants he could hear early morning bird song and he blinked when the first rays of the sun slanted across the land to catch the tops of the tepees. He felt movement as one of the women left the tepee and half-turned, only to feel his abused muscles ache from staying in one position for so long. He groaned, turning on to hands and knees so he could crawl back inside the tent, feeling older and frailer.

The rise and fall of Sarah's chest proved she was still alive, but the grayness in her face and the sheen of fever had gone. She looked peaceful. Beautiful even, reminding Tom of the story Looks First had told, of the red-haired woman who must be cherished and protected.

She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly, catching his eyes, and when she smiled at him he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, thinning the fog of despair that had almost swallowed him whole since the loss of his boy. For the first time in almost a year he could see the light pushing back the darkness of grief, offering him hope, and that light shone brighter and more fiercely than any gold.

END  
 


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